Of Necromancers, Husks and Humanity
by War Cry's
Summary: 98,000 BC; A Reaper is destroyed and it's remains falls onto Earth, where it is found by a towns worth of Humans in Africa 50,000 years later. At the same time, in the Arctic, explorers are holed up and dying, until an unexpected arrival brings forth the undead.


**Edit; 12/11/2016**

 **Thank you NakedFury, for pointing out things that sound like nonsense, I've corrected it now.**

* * *

 **An idea that settled into my mind, another one.**

 **I do not own either Mass Effect of Total War, the Lich King idea was taken from various games but with my own, dramatic and powerful, flare added in.**

* * *

 **"We are Travelers,**  
 **Constantly moving forward.**

 **And looking back.**

 **Alone,**  
 **And as one.**

 **We have no choice, but to try.**

 **For our insatiable curiosity.**

 **For our fear,**  
 **Of what should happen if we don't.**

 **You are that explorer now.**

 **We will say goodbye,**  
 **And you will look back one last time.**

 **And know, that wherever you go,**  
 **We will be with you.**

 **This is Commander Shepard,**  
 **Signing off."**

* * *

98,000 BC;

The Inusannon and Thoi'Han fought those they had called 'The Harvesters', one battle was fought above a world that held the late-early stages of life.

3 Pirate Dreadnoughts and a their support fleets, acting independent from their government and without anyone else's knowledge, manage to lure a pair of 'Harvester' Dreadnoughts away from the rest of the invasion. Using a few cargo freighters while the pirates hide close behind the gas giant in the system.

They manage to destroy both, but also get destroyed in the process. No further exhibitions into this system happen by either side.

One of the 'Harvester' Dreadnoughts crashes into the middle of a rainstorm that has been covering a continent for the last 20,000 years, one of it's legs breaks off before it breaches the atmosphere and crashes into another continent, both continents are on the south side of the planet. Both crashes end up burying the Dreadnought, whether through sand or jungle it is well hidden from orbital scanners.

The other 'Harvester' Dreadnought crashes onto the next planet away from the local sun, the entirety of the Dreadnought ploughs into and under the ground. It crashes at such an angle that the cavern behind it collapses into itself once it has passed through.

The entirety of the pirate fleet is destroyed in the process, with only one freighter managing to leave the system. It is also destroyed by the 'Harvesters', taking the slight victory with it to it's grave.

49,000 BC;

The Protheans place a observation post on the 5th planet in the system, targeting the next planet that is closer to the local sun. By the end of the year, all contact with the outpost is shut down. Security groups are sent into the outpost, few survivors escape and orbital bombardment is authorized on the remains of the observational post. Further bases are disapproved and the Protheans leave the system with all available Eezo, they close the Relay.

A settlement is created near a metallic monstrous construct that has recently been unearthed by the ever changing desert, they loose all contact from the other settlements further North.

* * *

 **The Rise of The Lich King**

* * *

 **1,100 BC; Iron Age; Arctic; Chief** **Thornal Finnsson.**

They had set out on a whim, a fantasy of thought and adventure. Now, the survivors huddled close around the only fire within the grand wooden hut while the winds and snow pelted the long, sturdy and low building.

But they did not fear the cold that fought for every glimpse heat, nor the wind shaking the grand hall as if by the orders of an angry immortal who demands that they retreat. They had stayed too long, within the steadfast hall, waiting the storm out, to be effected by it any longer.

What did have them fearing, huddling closer together in the sub-conscious need for company, was the sudden cease of all activity outside the warmful, comforting hall.

Then there was a knock, a fist slamming against the only door within the building. Loud and clear in the newly silenced hall. Causing all those inside to reach for the closest weapon. The new iron weapons were stronger than the bronze weapons from before, and was the cause for the expedition in the first place. Chief Finnsson had amassed enough to trade for up to 110 iron weapons, everyone else had to bring their own bronze or iron weapons, so there were plenty of weapons laying around for the small party of 21 to duel wield as they huddled closer still.

Another knock, louder, several echoing thumps in repetition. Everyone tensed, waiting for the being outside to barge through the fragile doorway.

Thornal was struck with a thought when the knocks halted once more. Cautiously, in case he was wrong and there was a spirit on the other side to take it's revenge on them that somehow couldn't enter, he approached the door. When nothing happened, he pushed the sheet of wood away from the flap, stopped and stared.

The figure in front of him was tall, taller than anyone he had ever seen. Covering the man was a set of armour that was darker than he had thought possible, with a flowing cape made from a cloth that seemed to demand respect and power. Glowing eyes, a mixture of white and blue, peered out of the helm that had spikes pointed upwards, as if some form of crown. Skulls were visible covering the armour, one for the stomach, shoulders, forearms and knees.

The figure held a sword, built with a material Thornal couldn't recognize and as black as the mans armour. The flat of the blade, the side he could see, had glowing, undecipherable, runes.

The figure bowed their head slightly in thanks, before saying, "May I enter this great hall? I have matters to discuss, and they are best discussed without the cold of the North of the world stealing the life of those that still live."

Thornal nodded slowly while stepping to the side to allow the man through, once the man had stepped though Thornal checked outside. The glistening white tunnel was all that met him, before it slowly collapsed into itself.

Closing the door once more, Chief Finnsson turned towards the stranger that was in their midst.

The man drove his sword, tip first, into the floor before the lead seat. His seat. Before taking a seat in the dirt to the right.

Confused by the mans actions, Thornal took his seat before asking, "What bids thee, stranger, to these dreary halls in the middle of this deadly weather."

The man turned his head towards him, glowing eyes judged him for a second before he responded, "I do not have much time before your life runs out, so I will say this. I am just a servant, who has been tasked with giving you a choice. A choice that holds sway to the very strings of the fate of the universe."

Thornal was intrigued, but still cautious and slightly intimidated, "This offer?"

"To hold the eternal title of the Lich King. The undead bow to your will as if they were the most loyal followers. Unlimited power at your fingertips, immortality or godhood, able to grant or take those that you wish with similar powers and to determine their strength in the mystic arts of the Necromancer, or the Healer. Able to return the souls to those already departed, or merely have your power enter the bodies and let the souls rest in the afterlife."

"A lot of power to throw around," Stated Thornal, after a tense, stunned silence, "But, there is always a catch."

The man nodded slowly, "To the far South, in the middle of the endless deserts, a construct has been found, long ago. It twists the mind and forces those to fight at it's whim. Living, dead, it matters not. Their souls are forced to watch as their bodies betray them or are turned into a husk of what they were once before. A mockery of life and death. My master has deemed it imperative that I give this power to someone upon this world. You are my first choice. You are removed from the rest of civilization in a place that is near impossible to reach at this time, meaning you can build your own kingdom without fear of immediate attack. And the other choices would succumb to a darkness created by the power they wield."

Thornal hesitated, thought through what had been said. After several seconds, he relaxed his hands, placing the blades he held on either side of him.

"How do I accept?"

"Draw the sword, my power will flow into you. This armour will also become yours."

"And you? What will happen to you, stranger?"

The man merely glanced around him, before replying, "I am nothing more than the suit of armour given a little life and an order. I will merely... disappear back to the Nether-realm."

Thornal was surprised, but placed his hands on the sword before withdrawing it from the ground.

The man, or suit, breath a content sigh. A glowing mist billowed out from the gap over his mouth, before he lay on his back. The mist swirled around Thornal, who tensed, as the suit of armour depressed itself, as if it was just a suit with no occupant that was neatly arranged on the ground.

It drifted closer, before swirling delicately towards his mouth and with one deep in-drawn breath in surprise, Thornal drew the essence into him.

His skin slowly decolored until he was as white as the snow outside, his blond hair turning a shining, silver white that started emitting it's own light while his eyes gained the ethereal glow that seemed to show his soul and power, making those who still lived to immediately bow to the new Lich King, High King of the Dead.

A twitch, before the new Lich King threw his hand forwards, fingers splayed as if he had just threw something. Lances of ethereal light shot forth, piercing each of the survivors and infusing them with the Lich Kings blessing to survive the North of the World. Two of the survivors, trusted confidants of Thornal Finnsson, were gifted with further power.

They rose, newly gifted Necromancer Lord and Shaman in servitude of their Lich King, along with the other 18 astounded individuals that no longer felt the clutches of death scraping their very souls.

Thornal withdrew his hand, then gripped his sword with both of his hands and plunging it back into the ground. A flash of light announced a light, glowing mist that spread throughout the hall and entered the bodies that stopped up any of the holes, giving them life once more. They too rose, eyes giving a slight glow before the souls returned to their bodies, the ones still capable of holding life, whereupon they fell to their knees and stared at their living hands in unrestrained awe.

* * *

 **1,100 BC; Iron Age; South Phazania; Leader Abubakar Bello**

Abubakar Bello searched the Southern surroundings from his slightly elevated position in the middle of his village/camp. There seemed to be a foreboding feeling in the air... he did not like it, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as far as they could.

It was like this when they had first set out from the large town further North, and in curiosity and protective fear he had lead his followers that were willing to kill for their town Southwards, into the desert.

They still had enough food and drink to keep them going for another month, plenty of time to return even if they were to get a little lost, especially if they were to start to return after another, last of a series of travelling South, night in the desert.

And yet, his hair stood further out, the sense of death felt stronger, something seemed... off, with the sight before him.

His attention was snatched by the shouting at the wooden tower, one of the sentries was pointing Southwards while another was scrambling down the ladder and then rushing towards him. His attention went back to the desert further to the South, and his blood ran cold while fear grasped at his heart.

Many people were moving towards them, seemingly a large blob that wavered in the deserts haze, almost enough to match half his own group in size, maybe slightly smaller.

Not waiting for the sentry to reach him, he rushed to his feet and darted down from his position in the center.

"To arms, brothers! Those that may wish us harm approach!"

His bellowing declaration was met with a rush of chaotic activity as his people searched for their weapons, armour and chosen ones. Abubakar himself grabbed his Iron sword and armour before searching for his chosen one, Julitta.

After the searches had finished, the sentry's on the South watchtower cried out, "They have metal! They seek to harm! They seek to harm!"

Those that had weapons and armour surged towards the entrance, a rather small gap between some sheets of wool, to reach see this new enemy.

By the time Abubakar had reached the front of the mob that stood before the entrance, the hazy 'blob' was close enough that he could start to see individuals. It wasn't long before he realized that many were covered in metal and were shambling towards them.

Then he saw the people, dragging their feet behind them as the shuffled towards him and his people. The gazes of their attackers, for they definitely did not want to speak calmly, seemed... dead, lost to the world or in great pain. It sent further shivers down his spine, as with his people behind him.

Then came the groaning, the gut wrenching, bone chilling moans that emitted from the throats of the... things, before him.

Abubakar breathed deeply, squashing the fear that rose from the sight and sounds in front of him, before he threw his sword forwards and yelling as loudly as he could, in the hopes it would drown out the sounds for but a moment.

"For Windrip! For our families! For our _Home_!"

His people followed him as he charged their Enemy, for those that walk, look and sound as they, the Enemy, did were no ally to any Human of this world.

Abubakar smashed right into the first he could see, and was soon tackled from the side by another Enemy. It reared its head back and its mouth opened to reveal its teeth.

It lunged forwards, before getting tackled to the side by one of Abubakars people while another came over to help him up.

Bodies fell swiftly on both sides, before Abubakars people developed a method of the Enemies destruction. The Enemy did not seem to be able to adapt swiftly to the change in tactics as a few men fought one Enemy at a time, taking it down before moving on, just like a group of drunkards pummeling another drunk. Just as it seemed that Abubakars people held the upper hand, more Enemies approached, followed by Humans that seemed to start fighting with over-zealousness that boarded obsession, screaming about the destruction of all people and that their masters would destroy then control the world in fire and death.

And all too soon, as quickly as it started, it stopped. And as Abubakar searched for another Enemy to fight, he saw the dead that surrounded him, bodies that piled high where they fell. Few survived, a pair of the Enemy and several of his own men.

Soon, non of the Enemy remained. But one less of his too.

The survivors of the bloody fight staggered back to the camp, another two would die to disease before the week was out, Abubakar worriedly noticed.

Entering the camp, the survivors were met with the grieving families of all those that had died and their own families swarming them.

After the night had past and the sun beat down upon them once more, Abubakar lead his people back towards their home. Before sending a messenger further North, to Africa, to gather aid in their struggle against this new Enemy.

* * *

 **I'm running dry here, so I'll stop.**

 **Sorry about the wait, anyone from my other stories. I've been on holiday, as well as a folk festival and have managed to do something to my internet at home that doesn't allow me to use it. I've also been reading a lot as well.**

 **[Zogga! Dat'z no excuse! Get 'ere so I'z can stomp ya!]**

 **Anyway,** **Phazania is in Rome 2 Total War, not too sure if it exists, but there you have it. It's below Carthage.**

 **I have plenty of plans for this story, firstly;**

 **I will go through each Total War age, per chapter. So, next up, Rome Total War!**

 **Followed by Medieval, Empire and then WW1 (Mod?). Then it will go onto WW2, modern and then futuristic.**

 **There is no Mass Effect Tech on Mars, the Relay will stay in its icy prison. The technology developed will be _different_ , not better, then Mass Effect tech.**

 **Mass Effect, other than Humanity, will not be changed. Meaning they won't have as large armies as Humanity, who have been fighting continuously for over 3,000 years, nor any real experience prior to Contact. What that Contact ensures remains to be seen.**

 **Expect there to be differences to each era, duh, as the actions from the last roll onto the next.**


End file.
